


Aitai

by Sumiregawa Nenene (Shadowblight)



Category: Digimon Tamers
Genre: Angst, Community: yuri_challenge, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblight/pseuds/Sumiregawa%20Nenene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title of this piece is the Japanese word which means roughly "I Want to Meet You." Written for Livejournal community <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/yuri_challenge/">yuri_challenge</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Aitai

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is the Japanese word which means roughly "I Want to Meet You." Written for Livejournal community [yuri_challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/yuri_challenge/).

They say that only children can bond with Digimon; that only they have the blind will and faith necessary to bond with them. There are many times, then, that I should wonder if I might still be a child. I think of you daily, though the days pass so very quickly anymore. We never could figure out how to get past the barrier into the Digital World once again, and even Takato grew tired of trying to come up with a method to break though it. I was there too, trying right along with him. I suppose the difference was that Takato slowly detached himself from Guilmon... I was never really able to do that.

The quiet comforts me only sometimes. In those silences, I might hear the skitter of claws of a small rodent moving over the roof, and imagine that you are up there instead.

But also in the presence of such quiet, the distance becomes only more apparent and painful. I try not to think of it, honestly, but it's very hard to do in this house. I've never really felt close to Mom, and Grandmother, while I think she understands me, was never one to confide in. The country setting, when I stare into the night sky, only adds to the feeling; that you're out there, somewhere, beyond my reach.

And then I start to feel lonely. Not "alone" like Mom always calls me when I'm in a crowd of people who should be my friends, but "lonely." Of course there is that sting of regret that slinks in, too. Regrets that sometimes seem like as many stars in the sky: that I hadn't been as kind to you as I should, that I shouldn't have been so cold even to myself, that I should have cared about finer details of our relationship, and so many others.

As sad as it may seem, that is probably what I remember least, when it should be clear to me as the shining DigiGnomes that lead us to being so close to start with. I can't remember the smaller things about our times together, only general feelings. Competitiveness, determination, protection, belief... love. You cared for me despite my pushing you away. I've little doubt that much else could describe that but "love."

So instead, without the solidity of those memories, I imagine all of the things that could have been in between. All the little details I'm missing, that might bring me a step closer to you in that navy-blue night sky of endlessness. Because you see, to those who have shared one body, one soul, anything else seems like just the filling in of details. Even that gigantic sky that separates the two of us

_across worlds; across dimensions_

means nothing. It shrinks away to the fantasies in my mind. I see your ears twitch slightly whenever you're happy; goodness knows that face of yours has a hard time making expressions. The sound of your paws landing softly as you drop from the roof to kneel beside me on the porch. The silken feel of your fur left behind on my clothes as you carried me out of the line of danger. The scent of your gloves, mixed ever-so-slightly with that of your own, as you put a restraining paw against my shoulder.

For several, incredibly brief moments I savor these sensations, until I feel a tear rolling down my cheek. Surely I cannot be a child any longer; the truth is, I know all of these things to be love. A love which a child can have no understanding of, and the knowledge that with this, that I cannot ever meet you again.


End file.
